through a windshield (11-25-2023)
together
thru all the glue
filn history's glossy cracks
and all the pines
from wane to wax
we were(are, perhaps)
moonrise bent
lain with backs
pressed on tarmac
slid red, long
longer than we thought possible.
dream-licked heads
shattered and spread :
painted lines on painted lines
on
painted lines
down along this serpentine road.
without a motion between
but pinkies
overlapped in promise
and that lovers' light still caught
in one anothers' eye
a strip of paradise
there belied
strewn. placed by god
cooling in the thrumm
of that quiet
forest road
the kind you learn to walk alone.
but
John Bastard
Sat 25th Nov 2023 15:08
this is bad writing
but sometimes it just has to come out.
when I'm awake I'm sure I could make something out of this. but that's not really the point.
there are a lot of times in my life that I'm thinking of right now where I should have followed.
someone leaves the room crying -- I should have followed.
someone disappears into a crowd, into danger -- I should have followed.
these are promises that I'm breaking:
"I will help you, I will protect you, we are friends;
I know you, I see you, I love you."
and ive failed.
ive let fear get between me and what's important.
I don't want to be that person anymore
I want to be real; I want to be me
but it's hard.